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  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    In case my phone goes kaput.
    #1
    These are super short poems I wrote when I couldn’t sleep. My phone is old so I’m paranoid it’ll die and I’ll lose them. Idk if mention of blood is enough to warrant a mature tag but let me know if I need to edit.



    Her knuckles crush into my jaw with the violence of a car wreck and I swear my blood spells out love on the hot cement.

    I said I had healed. I told them all that I had outgrown that tired husk.
    I lied, I lied, I lied.
    Every day, I pray for your misery. Every day I gnash my teeth in anticipation. Your downfall will fill this gnarled heart and I will choke on my own blood and laughter.

    They told me that holding on to all my anger like this was just like grasping a hot coal. I’m going to swallow every bit of these embers and keep them burning inside me like a wildfire. I want to breathe ink black smog and spit ash while it churns inside me. I want the flames to flourish up the walls of my belly and tear down every inch of me you knew. I’m starving for the day I rebuild this body, slick and sharp like volcanic glass. You’ve never witnessed anything as magnificent as this. And you never will.

    His mouth finds hers in a kiss like mercy in the middle of the hangman’s noose, like the circumference of his desire is too great.
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